


reality from what i dream

by acid_glue234



Series: you're just another song and dance [12]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, New York City, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acid_glue234/pseuds/acid_glue234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To have found your soulmate at only eighteen years old is both a gift and a curse, because what if they're your soulmate, but you're not theirs? (Part XII of the "you're just another song and dance" series, Rachel's POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you'll always make me feel best (even when i'm blue)

**Author's Note:**

> i had to chop this chapter in half because it was up to about 14000 words. yikes!

To have found your soulmate at only eighteen years old is both a gift and a curse, because what if they're your soulmate, but you're not theirs?

Soulmate is a very strong word, Rachel knows, but she would never use it lightly, or without good reason. Without intent or purpose. But the truth is, she's never felt a connection to anyone the way she connects with Santana, and it wasn't without lack of trying. 

One night in late spring, Angela had dragged her out after her 'breakup' with Lloyd, convinced Rachel needed a rebound, and she wasn't entirely wrong, though it was Santana who Rachel needed to get over. Not Lloyd.

His name was Isaac, and she met him at a bar in downtown Brooklyn. She can barely remember that night, but she distantly recalls how the complexion of his skin matched Santana's. He'd been crass and sharp-tongued, and while that's usually not Rachel's type when it comes to men, she couldn't help but look into his dark eyes and acknowledge a hidden vulnerability within him that reminded her just enough of Santana. 

It was her curiosity that coerced her into staying for another drink, even though her conscience insisted she'd go home. 

Rachel could blame it on Angela for allowing her to use her apartment, or she could blame the eight shots of vodka Isaac bought her, but at the end of the night, it was Rachel who slept with him without using protection. The worst part of it all had to be coming home the next morning to Santana sipping her coffee in the kitchen with her nose buried in a thick textbook, completely ignorant to the fact Rachel had been out all night. 

But how could she even be upset over something like that? The last person she could blame was Santana, even though she was the one who'd been on Rachel's mind the entire time she was in bed with someone else.

It was her drunken decision, so she could blame no one but herself.

Santana had said she wanted space, so Rachel's done her best to acquiesce and stay away from the loft. It's the least she can do after everything she's put Santana through. At this point, she'll do anything to get back on common ground with her roommate. 

Crashing at Angela's hasn't been too bad, minus the nights she wakes up to groaning and panting coming from Angela's bedroom. Luckily Rachel remembered to bring her headphones, so that helps to drown out the sound, yet it definitely doesn't help the overwhelming ache of loneliness she feels night after night, thinking about how things could have been had she just told Santana how she felt instead of devising an entire plot behind Santana's back in order to win her affection. 

Quite frankly, Rachel feels she deserves the aches and pains Angela's couch gives her. Or maybe she deserves worse.

It's the first time she's stepped back into the loft in about a week, after sneakily retrieving her laptop while Santana was in class one afternoon, but most of her time back has been spent pacing in their small, poorly lit bathroom with her phone grasped tightly in her hand.

This is the closet they've come to a face-to-face conversation in over four weeks. Santana's currently in the screen of Rachel's phone, gazing at her in concern as Rachel walks back and forth. Her expression is a mixture between worry and amusement, and Rachel would find the look on her face completely adorable if she wasn't so frustrated at the moment. 

Everything is going wrong, and to top it all off, her phone service isn't exactly the best in this tiny bathroom. The screen is a little blurry, but she supposes she can see Santana well enough. She can see those dark eyes shining curiously, that scrunchy nose crinkled up in confusion, those plump lips pursed as Santana tries to catch up to whatever it is Rachel's complaining about. 

Santana's a godsend, in every way; how she cares so openly and without much regard to what others think always manages to knock all the air out of Rachel's chest. She wishes she could say she's done waiting for Santana, and that there are so many other people out there who would easily confess their feelings for her if they had them, but Rachel's never exactly been about achieving what she wants the easy way. 

She's so close to having Santana that she can literally taste it. But don't get her wrong. This isn't about victory or defeat. It's about courage. It's about being true to herself, and the Rachel Berry from high school would have never let the love of her life slip away. She would have fought tooth and nail until there was nothing left to give, and so that's what she does. 

For now, fighting is waiting and allowing Santana space to figure out what she wants. Until then, Santana's still her best friend, and she's the absolute greatest best friend Rachel could ever ask for to put up with her constant shenanigans and anxiety attacks. 

Rachel grinds the back of her teeth together and breathes out a sigh through her nose. "I can’t handle it, Santana. When I came to New York, I thought I left high school behind, but now the majority of the New Directions are in our living room, and it's utter chaos," she huffs, plopping down on the toilet seat.

Pacing in these heels is simultaneously burning her calves and creating scuff marks on the wooden floor, so she haphazardly kicks them off and then refocuses her phone so that the camera is directly on her good side.

"Angela's the wedding planner, and she's supposed to be keeping everything under control, but nothing is under control. Everything is  _out_  of control, and I'm seriously about to tear my hair out of my tender head."

Santana laughs at her dramatics with a roll of her eyes. "If I didn’t know any better, I’d think  _you_  were the one getting married today."

The image that pops into her head at that statement—well, she's definitely pushing it now. Santana can't even admit to liking her, forget a wedding, for heaven's sake. 

She still doesn't have a clear idea as to how Santana feels for her, and obviously reading in between the lines has never worked in Rachel's favor, so unless Santana actually says the words, nothing will change between them. They'll just continue to sway on their opposite ends of the tightrope, praying neither of them falls off before something— _anything_ —can happen. 

Rachel wants to calm down and laugh with Santana, but something in the pit of her stomach won't let her. “Kurt is unbearable right now. He won't listen to a thing I say," she exasperates, pressing her toes against the cool wooden floorboards. "I'm only trying to help, but he's currently rising everyone's blood pressure with his unrelenting complaining and nagging and worrying. I told him to take a deep breath, and do you know what he said?"

Santana only bites down on her bottom lip and shrugs. "Take a dump?"

"He told  _me_  to  _stop_  breathing!"

"What a cocksucker. Tell him to stop being such a sassy bitch and take a fucking chill pill."

The suggestion catches her off guard at first, which should probably be a testament to how little they've communicated over the last few weeks, but this is the way Santana always talks when she's fed up with someone, and while Santana's protective instinct to defend Rachel is kind of unnecessary in this moment, she's immediately charmed anyway.

Kurt has asked her on multiple occasions what it is she likes about Santana so much, as if truly baffled by the idea, but it's things like this. Not her inappropriate vulgarity, of course, but it's how Santana so easily sticks up for her, despite their disagreements, (and despite the stupidity of their disagreements). It's how Santana takes her side without even a second thought. The way Santana defends her honor is as though people are indirectly hurting  _her_  feelings when they hurt Rachel. 

She really hates comparing, and she tries to refrain from doing it as much as possible, but when she dated Finn in high school, he always seemed embarrassed to stick up for her. He'd constantly take the easy way out by fighting against her rather than  _with_  her in order to stay popular.

But things are different with Santana. Everything's different. They're out of high school now, and the social hierarchy is thankfully a thing of the past. Instead of watching out for her constantly changing status, Santana looks out for Rachel, even when her hurt pride probably tells her to do otherwise.

Rachel can't honestly see herself saying any of what Santana just suggested, so she tells her, "Somehow I highly doubt calling Kurt a sucker of genitalia will succeed in calming him down." Santana blatantly laughs at her, probably for using the word genitalia so naturally. Insistent on keeping the conversation going, Rachel asks, "How are things over there?"

Santana glances behind her and then looks back into the camera with a smile, and Rachel's not going to tell anymore lies; she's missed that face so much, and she'd stare all day if she didn't fear the prospect of making Santana uncomfortable.

A figure in the background walks past, and although the screen is blurry and a little pixelated, Rachel would know that athletic physique and dance posture anywhere. It's the same way Angela walks, so how could she forget?

It's no secret Brittany, Quinn, and Cole are with Santana, and while it makes Rachel feel a little uneasy, she can only imagine how Santana feels. Having three of the women you've slept with all in the same room can't be fun, which may be the reason Santana accepted Rachel's call to begin with. But Rachel can't really be mad that Santana could possibly be using her as an escape route away from the awkwardness, because she'd do the same thing. Luckily, she never slept with Daniel, so having him and Finn in the same room shouldn't be too much of a problem.

"Henry’s chill. He's in his room getting dressed right now," Santana says, and then pops an ice cube into her mouth with an arched brow as she looks past the camera. "His friends from the paper are cool though. Like, one of them does the funnies and offered to do a caricature of me. Nice, huh?" She actually looks excited about that, so Rachel nods in agreement with a grin that matches Santana's. "Anyway, Lawrence is no help at all, Puck keeps picking on Quinn, but what else is new? And Britt—well, she’s tying Gay Tay's bow tie as we speak. Everything’s a-okay on this side of town."

Rachel pouts into the camera. "Invite me to your side of town," she mumbles, but she doesn't say it because she actually wants to be over there. Preferably, Rachel would much rather stay as far away from Brittany and Quinn as possible, but if fending off the dirty looks—from Quinn—and dealing with the flirtatious advances toward Santana—from Brittany—in order to be just a little bit closer to her best friend, Rachel thinks she could definitely put up with the ex-Cheerios for a  _little_  while, at least.

Santana adorably mimics Rachel's pout through the screen. "Would if I could, babe," she says, lifting the corner of her lip into a sad smile. She sighs and then scratches at her temple. "But anyway, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

Rachel freezes at that. "Okay, sure. Yeah. Anything."

"Why are we FaceTiming while you're on the toilet? Boundaries, Rach, c'mon."

She gives Santana a pointed look. "I'm not actually  _using_  the toilet. I'm hiding."

Santana's expression remains hilariously skeptical, eyebrows up to her hairline as she nods slowly. "No more hiding," she teases, but something in her eyes lets Rachel know she's not entirely kidding. "Get back out there. I believe in you."

"Yeah, well, you also believe in the existence of aliens, so..."

With a hardly contained smirk, Santana flutters her long eyelashes in annoyance. "Suck my big toe, Berry."

There's a hard knock on the door before she can even think of a response, and Rachel feels like biting down on her fist in frustration. "Just a minute," she calls, sighing as she looks back down at her phone. “It appears someone can no longer contain their bladder. See you at the chapel?"

"See you at the chapel," Santana confirms, lolling her head to the side with a lazy smile. "I'll be the one in the pink dress."

With a deep breath, Rachel tries to remind herself that this is supposed to be a good day, with no drama or mishaps or sad tears. She's pretty sure she just jinxed it, but oh well—good thing she's not superstitious.

\--

She exits the bathroom, annoyed to find no one even waiting to use the facilities. 

Actually, nothing much has changed since she escaped to the bathroom ten minutes ago. 

Finn is still bumbling around the kitchen looking for something to do, but all he’s really doing is taking up space. Sam is messing around in the kitchen, throwing an apple up and down as he tries to relive his glory days on the football team. Artie is trying to hit on Gwen to no avail. Mike and Tina are trying not to act awkward around each other. Daniel is no help at all as he dances around the living area, practicing some routine for a showcase he's performing in at the end of the summer, and Angela is pacing in the foyer, looking exceptionally stressed out.

Rachel had a feeling she bit off just a little more than she can chew with this whole wedding planning endeavor, but she’s not going to be that person who says  _I told you_  so, only to make her friend even more unnerved than she obviously already is.

Mercedes is actually being the only helpful one right now as she tries to tie Kurt’s bow, but he's always been particular about his appearance. After Mercedes' fifth attempt, Kurt swats her hands away and turns toward the mirror to just do it himself.

Clearly annoyed, Mercedes catches Rachel's eye and gives her the most murderous look ever, so Rachel swiftly moves them apart and then asks Mercedes to make sure Sam doesn't break anything in the kitchen with his flying apple.

She could really use Burt's help right now, but he's downstairs with the limo driver chatting about some baseball game that's supposed to be on tonight, and Carole's already down at the chapel getting everything set up. 

Rachel sucks in a breath and turns toward Kurt, only to have him pull her into a clumsy hug. The unexpectedness of it knocks the wind out of her, but Kurt doesn't let go, instead whispering a muffled, "Sorry for being such a pain, it’s just..." He pulls away from her and then wipes at the tear that’s presently sliding down his flushed cheek. “Oh my God, I can't believe I'll be married in less than two hours."

Rachel takes both of his hands in her own and squeezes them comfortingly. She supposes she somewhat gets how he's feeling. Not long ago, Rachel was in his same position, scared and excited and nervous all at once as she continually asked herself whether marrying Finn was the right thing to do. Thank God she didn't go through with it, even after Quinn's accident and swift recovery. Finn had wanted to run away together, but somewhere in Rachel's heart she knew it wasn't what she really wanted. 

"I can't believe it either," she says, smiling at him softly. "If you told me last year at this time how our lives would turn out, I wouldn't believe a word of it."

Kurt chuckles, but then his joyous expression slowly morphs into a frown. He looks at her worriedly. "You don't think I'm making a huge mistake, do you? Santana thinks we're rushing into this."

"Don't worry about what Santana thinks. What do  _you_  think?” Rachel asks him cautiously.

He looks at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but apparently those thoughts are good, because a beaming grin eventually spreads across Kurt’s chubby cheeks, and he says, "I think Henry's amazing. He's everything I've ever wanted, and we love each other so much. I can’t wait to marry him."

Angela rudely separates their conjoined hands as she walks right between them with an irritated groan. "Then let's get a fucking move on," she mutters, pointing at her wrist, which ironically doesn't even acquire a watch. "The ceremony starts at three. We don't have all day, people."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt turns back towards the mirror to continue fluffing his hair. Rachel thinks he already looks great in his black tux and pink bow tie, but she supposes a few last touches won't hurt. 

Mercedes comes back into the living area about five minutes later, chomping down on an apple, and Rachel looks past her to see Sam, Finn, and Daniel talking amicably, probably about sports or video games or something.

She raises a brow at Mercedes. "How did you..."

"Secrets are called secrets for a reason, Rachel,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand, and so Rachel offers her thanks, but Mercedes only shakes her head with a tight-lipped smirk. "They're all idiots, honestly, but one of them used to be my idiot, so the least I can do is keep them in line.”

It concerns Rachel how she so easily forgets the fact Mercedes and Sam dated for a brief period in high school. It happened so fast and they kept is so discreet that hardly anyone noticed they even had a thing until it was over with a Whitney Houston song and a bitter breakup. 

But if Rachel remembers correctly, Sam had always been the sensitive type, rapidly falling for the girls he'd date, even when they clearly didn't feel the same way (e.g. Santana and Quinn). At Mr. Schuester's wedding, Sam and Brittany were practically attached at the hip, so it's a little odd that he's not with her now. 

Rachel tells Mercedes as much, only for the other girl to laugh and say, "Oh, girl, those two broke up over a month ago," before taking another bite out of her apple. 

\--

Weddings have a way of making her nostalgic. Celebrating a new beginning can be freeing, and Rachel would usually be basking in the happiness of everyone around her, but her nerves are getting the best of her today. She shifts anxiously in her heels, currently blind to the cheerful smiles of her friends as they all meet up in the front of the chapel and wait for Kurt's limousine to pull up. 

Rachel had ridden with Sam, Mercedes, and Daniel, while Finn and Angela stayed with Kurt. She stands by the entrance now, fiddling nervously with the ribbon tied around her pink dress. She would have already went inside with the others if it wasn't for her inability to face Santana again after so many weeks of giving her time and space to work out her feelings. 

Of course they've spoken on the phone, but actually seeing her…

Well.

Rachel's been impatiently waiting for this moment, but she can't seem to find a reason why prolonging their reunion is an implausible concept.

Distracted, she wipes away a bead of sweat from her forehead when she hears a pair of shoes jogging up the concrete steps. She looks down with a confused frown to find a man peering up at her, and Rachel has to do a double-take, because she almost doesn't recognize him. It's only been about five months since she last saw him on Valentine's Day, but his look has changed drastically—in Rachel's opinion, at least. He's forgone his classic gel style, instead opting to wear it wild and curly, and he's even grown out his facial hair into a full beard, which—well, it suits him, in a strange way. 

Blaine greets her warmly, going in for a hug, and Rachel embraces him tightly. While Santana obviously prefers Henry, Rachel had always been secretly saddened over Kurt and Blaine's breakup. 

She had no idea he was even invited, but she supposes that it's very mature on Kurt’s part to put aside their past troubles in order to have Blaine at his wedding. Rachel doesn't know if she'd be as welcoming, especially if she was inviting somebody who had cheated on her. That's a lot to get past in less than a year, but Kurt has always been fairly good at compartmentalizing his feelings. 

They talk about what they’ve been up to; Blaine's going to school in Chicago in the fall. Apparently he wants to be a speech therapist, which isn’t what Rachel expected, but then she remembers Kurt telling her that Blaine once had a lisp similar to Cole's. 

Before he heads inside, she congratulates Blaine on his admittance and wishes him good luck, distantly hoping he doesn’t try anything sneaky today.

\--

Gwen and Cole show up holding hands, looking pretty darn comfortable together, which isn't too surprising considering Gwen had told Rachel a few weeks ago how much she was crushing on the guitarist. They make an adorable couple, all contrasting qualities, dark versus light. While Cole has that grunge rocker thing going for her, Gwen is all rosy cheeks and cute smiles. 

She'll admit that she's just a tad bit jealous. While Rachel's been head over heels for Santana for practically a year, Gwen and Cole only had to hang out together a few times to realize they had chemistry. It's things like this that make Rachel wonder whether love should be this hard for her. Nothing between her and Santana has come easily, minus their friendship, of course, and that thought sometimes has Rachel second-guessing her adamance that they belong together. 

When she sees Santana again, the first thing she does is laugh. Not that Santana looks funny in any way—she looks absolutely stunning, actually, as she always does, in her pink dress the women in the wedding party have been told to wear, and the dress fits Santana's toned figure and delectable curves perfectly, which is really no surprise at all.

No, Rachel's not laughing at Santana's appearance, but she does giggle as Lawrence shamelessly hits on Sam, and it’s quite a sight to see, especially when Santana teases Sam and tries to set them up on a date. 

Sam's none the wiser, his attention more on Brittany than anyone else, though Brittany seems more preoccupied with cheerfully greeting Mercedes, asking her, "When is your first album coming out? Lord Tubbington and I have a bet going over who'll break into the industry first—you or Tina."

Puck and Quinn pass by, and while Quinn doesn't give her the time of day, no doubt having been informed of Rachel's deceit, Puck stops in front of her to ruffle up her hair after giving Finn a fist bump. She grumpily fixes her 'do and then swipes her bangs out of her eyes to see Brittany coming toward her at full force with an excited smile and a fast hug that practically bowls Rachel over.

She barely gets a chance to find her bearings before everyone who’s not in the wedding party is hurriedly rushed into the chapel, because they're clearly way behind schedule. Angela is running absolutely rampant as she bullies everyone into their seats, manhandles Santana and Sam in line, and then forces Mercedes to put her phone away right before the music starts playing.

"Okay, everybody, this is it," Angela says, as if they're about to put on a rehearsed production. "Finn, you're walking out with Lawrence, Rach with Santana. You," she snaps her fingers at Tina and says, "I don't know your name, but you're with Martin." Her eyes slide to the right and she frowns. "Porsche, is it?"

"Mercedes," Mercedes grumbles, folding her arms over her chest.

"You're with Conrad," Angela tells her, and then turns around to inform Sam that, "You're with Gay Tay."

Sam squints and scratches at his shaggy hair. "Who's Gay Tay?"

"That'd be me," Gay Tay says meekly, raising his hand. "But you can just call me Taylor. Please.” 

Santana laughs into her hand and then pats Gay Tay on the shoulder, and Rachel has to admit she feels for the poor guy. She's only met Henry’s group of friends once at the engagement party, but it was pretty clear to Rachel that Taylor doesn’t exactly appreciate being referred to as Gay Tay. He’s not even flamboyant or over the top, so it’s not like the name suits him in any way.

Sam's never really been the type to care about that stuff, so he only shrugs and then says, "Works for me, dude."

"Enough with the chitchat," Angela snaps, moving towards Lawrence and Conrad to separate them when they start getting a little too touchy feely. "Let’s get this gay show on the road, huh?"

Rachel shifts a little in her dress and tightens her grasp on her flowers. The wedding march begins, and Santana holds an arm out to her with a lopsided grin. Rachel tries to keep her cool, but her stomach lurches as Santana giddily bounces her eyebrows up and down and then leads Rachel behind Finn and Lawrence when the line starts moving forward.

The wooden doors to the chapel open, and Rachel's so focused on not tripping that she barely catches a glimpse of the people in the seats surrounding them. There are flashes of lights and some light murmuring of oohs and ahhs, and so Rachel remembers to put on her show smile as she glances from Mr. and Mrs. (Pillsbury) Schuester, to Puck and Artie, who give her a discreet thumbs up.

Despite Kurt proposing, Henry is the one who waits in the front with the pastor. His usually curly, red hair is slicked back, and he looks so handsome in his black and white tux, but it’s clear Henry's nervous by the way his eyes constantly shift back and forth from his feet all the way to the door in the back of the chapel.

Once the groomsmen and women clear out, the ring bearer eagerly struts straight toward Henry with the cutest little grin, and then the flower girl slowly and shyly shuffles down the aisle. If you’re not smiling after that, you clearly have no heart, Rachel decides. 

The music changes as the organist appropriately switches up the soundtrack for Kurt’s entrance. Eyes focused on his future husband, Kurt slowly walks out with Carole on his arm, and Rachel can’t keep herself from tearing up, not even for her makeup’s sake, as Carole places a quick kiss to Kurt’s cheek and then hands him off to Henry.

Tina passes over a napkin, and Rachel gladly accepts the offering with a wet smile as Kurt and Henry face each other with matching grins, their hands held tightly between them. Rachel admires the way they stare at each other with such strong looks of pure adoration and love. 

Honestly, they look at each other like that every day, and it's how Rachel hopes someone will gaze at her one day as they promise to love her forever. Obviously today won't be that day, but that won't stop her from hoping and imagining for  _someday,_  at least.

Her eyes seek out Santana, almost instinctively, only to find Santana looking right back at her. Neither of them look away, even though Rachel has the nervous urge to shift her eyes to the left in embarrassment.

A heated blush crawls up her neck when Santana sends her a smirk, lips curved fondly. Rachel has no idea what her face looks like, but she's sure she's more than just red by now. She can't help it. If she could control how Santana makes her feel, they wouldn't still be hesitantly skating around each other, refusing to bring up the fact Santana knows everything about what Rachel feels for her. 

Rachel would still be embarrassed about it all—and in some ways she is—if she still didn't have this stupid hope that Santana might feel the same way. It's so very stupid. Rachel knows it is. But it's practically the only thing that keeps her going. Never did she imagine that only the thought of Santana's love could have her feeling this way—so giddy and shy and childlike—but it does. Whenever Santana looks at her, she can't help but feel special. 

Bowing her head, Rachel smiles into her chest and uses her bouquet as a cover so that no one thinks she's laughing in the middle of the ceremony. Santana's smirk only widens and then fleshes out into a full-blown grin. She doesn't hide it though, leading Lawrence to nudge her in the shoulder with an odd look. Her smile immediately crumples, and she flips him the bird behind her bushel of flowers.

Rachel has to put her entire bouquet in front of her face in order to refrain from busting out laughing. "You alright, girl?" Mercedes whispers next to her, and Rachel nods frantically and then makes it a point not to look at Santana for the rest of the ceremony.  

\--

After all of Kurt’s needless worrying and Henry's crazy family arriving late, it ends up being a lovely ceremony—even despite the slight hiccup when Blaine looked like he was about to object, but luckily Puck and Mr. Schuester were there to pull him back down. 

They take pictures for a good forty-five minutes, and Rachel's face feels like it's about to fall off, thus reminding her of prom and graduation all over again, when her fathers wouldn't quit taking pictures of her and forcing her to smile and turn to the left, as if paparazzi or something, and Rachel rethinks her plan of becoming a star for half a second before realizing the world will need her smile in the future in order to make it through their boring day to day lives. 

The wedding party is announced, and they all walk out together as the band hilariously plays "I'm Coming Out." Cole volunteered her band to play during the reception, and Kurt and Henry easily accepted, especially since she said they'd do it for free. 

Henry and Kurt’s first dance is to the  _Mamma Mia_  version of "When All is Said and Done” by ABBA, which was obviously Kurt's choice. If Henry had it his way, they’d probably be dancing to something by Panic! At the Disco.

Kurt dances with Carole for the son and mother dance, and then Henry dances with his two aunts on his father's side since his mother apparently refuses to support him in his decision to marry a man.

Rachel stands by the bar, alone, and looks around for Santana without even realizing it. She closes her eyes when she catches herself, tries to convince herself she doesn't care where Santana is, because she's not going to spend another wedding reception worried about Santana or with whom she's going to disappear at the end of the night.

Instead of making herself sick over what Santana's thinking or doing, Rachel looks around for her friends from high school, only to find they're all doing their own thing.

Blaine is flirting mercilessly with Gay Tay over by the buffet. Sam is talking to Lawrence next to the ice fountain. Finn is walking around aimlessly as if he's looking for something he lost. Mercedes has been chatting with Conrad since the ceremony—Rachel wonders if Mercedes even knows that the man is gay; she's never really been very good at being able to tell—and Puck is flirting up Gwen and Cole, who are obviously only playing along for his sake, because they seem to be more interested in each other these days. 

Clearly annoyed at being ignored, Puck eventually moves on and approaches Rachel with two glasses of champagne. He passes one over to her, and she accepts gratefully with a tiny smile.

Puck doesn't say anything at first, his eyes still glued to Cole and Gwen as they take each other's hands and then walk in the opposite direction towards the dance floor where Angela and Daniel are slow dancing and talking intimately.

"Hate to see ‘em go, love to watch ‘em leave," Puck drawls, pressing his lips together into a cheeky smirk. "Don’t you just love weddings? Free booze, single bridesmaids, questionable decision-making. I mean, what could be better?"

Rachel hums in acknowledgement, hearing but not really listening. "What ever happened to that Jersey mom you were dating?"

"Can’t be held down, babe," he boasts, running a hand over his buzz cut. "Never worked, never will."

Rachel's eyes continue to roam about, and she finds Sam staring longingly at Brittany as he pretends to listen to whatever it is Lawrence is saying. "Some things never change," she murmurs, setting her half-empty glass aside on the counter behind her. 

Puck dramatically clutches at his chest. "Well, ouch."

She smiles apologetically and rests a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, Noah. It’s just—" Rachel cuts herself off, glancing around the reception hall, "Being around everyone today; it’s really bringing me back to high school."

"Tell me about it." Puck cringes after knocking back the rest of his drink. "Like, I smiled at Quinn earlier, and she rolled her eyes so hard I thought she’d pop a blood vessel," he mentions flatly. "Some things don’t change, man. Never."

Rachel realizes he's right when she spots Mercedes and Tina giggling together at a table just as they had been at Mr. Schuester's wedding. Artie's still sitting alone. Quinn's the center of attention as three of Henry's cousins practically drool over her, offering her drink after drink. Even Lawrence is flirting with Sam, who doesn't seem to take much notice as he smiles at Lawrence and probably talks to him about Marvel or something. 

They all try to pretend like they've moved on, but the truth is, it's only been a year since high school ended for the majority of them. They're still kids, and they still have mistakes to make.

Just the thought of that has Rachel feeling excruciatingly tired. The mistakes she's made this past year can last her a lifetime.

"Speaking of," Puck adds, breaking Rachel out of her thoughts as he juts his chin in Brittany and Santana’s direction.

They’re sitting mighty close to each other at a table in the back, their heads bowed as they talk and giggle together. Rachel takes a sip of her champagne and pretends not to care, although her nonchalance can't be any further from the truth.

"I was just talking to San earlier, reminiscing about high school and shit, and when I told her how I crapped out on my chance with Quinn, she also seemed pretty bummed over someone," Puck reveals with a shrug, and then adds, "Hopefully it works out for her, because God knows I’ll never make up for my dumb shit."

Rachel looks over at them sadly. She physically can't look away; it's like gazing at the sun for too long—you've looked on for this long already, might as well keep on staring in a vapid trance. 

She doesn't think her heart can hurt any worse at the display in front of her, but then Quinn joins their table, and eventually Rachel has to look away; all of them together reminds her just a little too much of high school.

"No matter what happens to her, with whomever," Rachel begins, wincing slightly at the taste of that sentence in her mouth. "I just—I want her to be happy, you know."

Seemingly clueless, Puck smirks with a shake of his head. "It still blows my mind you two are best friends now. The difference a year can make," he mumbles, gnawing on the side of his lip as he looks back over to where the ex-Cheerios are sitting, but it's quite clear he only has eyes for Quinn.

Rachel doesn't know very much about Quinn or her life right now. She could very well be dating a rich Yalie with a bright future who's currently earning a degree in law, but Puck and Quinn have history, and—by the looks of Mike chasing after Tina, and Santana's smile when she gazes at Brittany—history seems to have a lot of impact when it comes to old feelings arising.

"Maybe some things do change," Puck says, lifting a glass up to his lips. "The important shit, at least."

Rachel shrugs. At this point, change is something she doesn't want to spend too much time thinking about, because who really knows how everything's going to work out in the end? Things can change for the good, or they can change for the bad, but there's really no telling how it'll all turn out unless you just take that chance.

Rachel sighs and turns to look Puck in the eyes. "If you want to be with Quinn, I suggest you stop beating around the bush and just tell her how you feel, Noah," she advises bitterly. "Stalling and playing games won't do anything but harm. Believe me."

Admittedly, she's still angry at herself for taking advantage of her best friend instead of just confessing her love for Santana and letting things progress naturally. It all seemed like a good idea at the time, especially since the advice had come from someone in power.

Somehow, Rachel didn't really see it as deceiving Santana as so much as displaying to her all she could have if they were together, but she hurt Santana, and obviously it's the person who was hurt that gets to decide how they feel.

Honestly, she's lucky Santana's talking to her at all, after all the lies she told, after all the secrets she kept.

She's going to be honest with everyone now, no matter the consequences, so when Puck gives Rachel a strange look at the advice she's offered, Rachel only shrugs a shoulder and admits, "I've learned a few things about love this past year. You can't force someone to feel the same way about you, but that doesn't mean you have to stop showing them you care. Go ask Quinn to dance. No one else has tonight. If you're a gentleman about it, I'm sure she'll accept."

Puck still looks reluctant, but he eventually takes Rachel's advice and strolls off toward Quinn's table with a less than confident stride. With one hand in his pocket, he stands in front of her with a weak smile and reaches out a hand, and Rachel carefully reads Puck's lips as he asks Quinn to dance with him.

(It's actually the most adorable thing she's seen all night, other than the dimpled smile spread across Santana's cheeks whenever she laughs with Brittany or teases Quinn.)

Puck allows a real smile to quirk at the corner of his lips when Quinn finally takes his hand with a roll of her eyes. As they make their way towards the dance floor together, Rachel accidentally makes eye contact with Santana, and an uncomfortable churning in her stomach arises. But then Brittany follows Santana's line of vision and now they’re both oddly staring at her, so Rachel glances away and then quickly downs her drink in one, swift gulp.

It burns all the way down, reminding her of failure and rejection and a little bit of jealousy too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2 of the wedding is up next ;)


	2. torn and tattered and crowned

She nurses the same glass of champagne for a good half hour as she mingles with everyone and gently rocks to the music in her too-tight heels. Earlier, Rachel had been content to just wait out the reception alone until she could go home, but then Gwen had come over and convinced her to have at least a little bit of fun. 

If Rachel thought her friends were wild, Henry’s family is an absolute riot. At least half of his cousins are gingers with freckled faces and green eyes, and they’re all over the place, entertaining everyone with their stories of the crazy mischief they’d get into together back before Henry left Chicago for New York with big dreams to become a writer.

Henry easily laughs off his cousins’ teasing, but it’s obvious they all mean well and that they’re proud of their eldest cousin.

Everyone seems to be enjoying the party and getting along well enough, and even Rachel finds herself having a good time as she laughs at Sam’s mock impression of Don Vito from  _The Godfather_ and then engrosses herself in Artie’s tale of how someone almost stole his wheelchair while on vacation in Italy with his mom.

Sometime after her second drink, Rachel spots Mike lurking around the reception hall with two glasses filled to the brim with champagne, and that’s when Tina pops up beside her. Rachel suspects she’s just trying to avoid Mike, for whatever reason, but it's none of her business, so she doesn't ask. 

They talk, for a little while, about where Tina’s going to college, and apparently she’s heading out to California with Mercedes, except she’s going to UCLA to study acting.

Tina asks how Rachel's doing out here in New York, and thank God for her understudy roll in the off-Broadway revival of  _Rent_ , or else she'd have nothing to talk about other than NYADA and how she probably only passed her dance class because she stooped down to the evil that is her dance instructor.

The show hasn't opened yet—that's not until another three weeks—but Rachel gushes on about the production team and how the rehearsals have been going, and she definitely doesn't forget to tell Tina where she can purchase her tickets for opening night.

Of course she doesn't technically have the roll yet, but a lot can happen from now until opening night, and so she always makes sure to pay close attention to the woman currently playing Maureen just in case she mysteriously falls ill or breaks something during the rehearsals of  _Tango: Maureen._

Accidents happen, after all, and she tells Tina as much, only for the other girl to look at her with a touch of concern. "You're not going to send the poor soul to a crackhouse, are you?" Tina asks, and Rachel can't exactly tell whether or not Tina's joking, but she lets it go when the wedding band starts playing  _Shut Up and Dance,_ andTina drags her out to the dance floor, exclaiming, "C’mon, this is my summer jam!"

Cole's singing up on stage with her band now, after Angela griped her out earlier for ditching them to hang out with Gwen. She has a nice voice, Rachel has to admit. It's kind of rough and lisp-y, but it's nice enough to get everyone out of their seats and moving on the dance floor.

Kurt's friends from the Adam's Apples take up most of the space, and when one of them mistakenly elbows her in the side, she turns around to give him a piece of her mind, only to come face-to-face with a man that looks a little too much like Isaac.

Rachel's face flushes as she casually makes an escape to the other side of the dance floor, nearer to where Kurt and Henry are dancing in a group with Lawrence and Mercedes. She and Tina join them for a while, though try as she might, Rachel can't help but pick Santana out of the crowd.

She's over on the other side dancing with Blaine and Mike, hysterically cracking up as they flamboyantly twirl around and then dip each other backwards. Still smiling, Santana glances up and they somehow spot each other between all the moving bodies surrounding them.

Santana sends Rachel a wink that has her heart melting in her chest, and although Rachel would probably sell her soul to have just one dance with Santana tonight, she stays on her opposite end of the floor, distantly watching and hoping no one notices how pathetic her lovesick gaze is. 

When a slower song starts crooning through the speakers, the wedding guests quickly filter out as everybody seeks out a partner. Although it seemed as if Tina was trying to avoid Mike, she dances with him anyway when he approaches her with a hopeful smile.

Left without a dance partner, Rachel turns to exit the dance floor and sit back down when a body crashes into her from behind, almost barreling her over.

An arm reaches out to catch her before she can stumble forward, and Rachel looks up, expecting it to be Finn—that boy always seems to pop up when she least expects him, and it's not like he's ever been very graceful on his feet—but instead of a tall boy in a tuxedo, Rachel's eyes land on a slender figure in a flared pink dress.

"Sorry, that whole thing went a lot smoother in my head," Santana says, letting go of Rachel’s waist before running a hand through her loosely curled hair.

It's the first time they've spoken face-to-face, one on one, in over four weeks, but Rachel can only stare longingly with a tight-lipped smile.

They stand in front of each other for a moment, as if they've never done this before, but then Santana finally breaks the awkward silence with a raspy, "Would you, um—like to dance or something?" She roughly clears her throat and then looks down at her feet, and Rachel grins goofily at her best friend.

In high school, Rachel always wanted the leading man, the cliché guy who’s smooth with his words and on his feet, and while Jesse was probably the closest thing she ever found to that, Rachel has come to the realization that she'd very much rather have this—a clumsy girl who can be smooth when she wants to, but when she's around the people she's comfortable with, that whole act drops and Santana is just...Santana.

"Of course," Rachel says, and Santana doesn't hesitate in taking her hand. She ravels their fingers together, and then presses up close to her, and Rachel shuts her eyes at the feel of her body up against Santana's.

They've danced together before, but only in a fantasy world would Santana willingly ask her to dance after everything that's happened recently. She's been hesitant over the last month; distant with her feelings and even simple conversations.

Rachel had suspected Santana just didn't want to give her the wrong idea, but this dance—the way Santana's holding her close, in such a protective embrace—has Rachel rethinking everything.

Santana’s tongue runs past her lips, and Rachel forces herself to look away after realizing she’s just been blankly staring at the other girl's mouth. They sway silently for a while, and Santana looks like she wants to say something, but Rachel doesn't push her. Instead, she rests her head on Santana's shoulder and inhales her best friend's familiar scent.

"You know," Santana whispers, close to her ear, and the sensation of it tickles gloriously. "This wasn't as painful as I thought it'd be."

The content smile on Rachel's lips immediately slips away, but she doesn't let the dismay she currently feels apparent in her voice when she says, "The wedding, or dancing with me?"

Santana's quiet at first, but then she says, "Both, I guess."

Rachel lifts her head from Santana's shoulder to brush her long bangs to the side. She nods slowly and then mumbles a quiet, "I understand."

Santana breathes in deeply, and despite Rachel's disappointment, she revels in the way Santana's stomach clenches against hers.

There are so many little things Rachel loves about this girl, and she'll never be able to ignore them. She loves the way Santana holds her when they dance, how she makes Rachel feel like they're the only two people in the world when they talk. She loves the way Santana can't hold a grudge when it comes to the people closest to her. Though she tries to act so vicious and cruel, she's really just hiding behind all of that. 

Rachel's seen beyond Santana's façade. She’s seen how good of a person Santana can be, and she's seen, multiple times, how selfless and honest Santana is, even when she's been been hurt by the people she loves most. There's just no unseeing something like that, so Rachel leans back to look into Santana's eyes and then smiles fondly. 

"What?" Santana murmurs self-consciously.

Rachel only shakes her head, but she doesn't stop smiling. "Sorry. Just being weird."

"Nothing out of the usual then."

She wants to counteract that statement, but it's not like it's untrue in any way. Rachel can agree she's not the most conventional person, and she's never wanted to be. The fact Santana can tease her about that without insulting her truly shows just how far they've come together over the past year. 

"Just me," Santana begins questioningly, "or is it kinda bizarre that whenever we see everyone, it's always at a wedding?"

Rachel tilts her head sideways. "We're all pretty bizarre—"

"Should've known you were gonna say that." Santana snorts, smiling crookedly as she places her cheek beside Rachel’s, and then whispers, "Matter of fact, I did know. I was waiting for it."

Her heart trembles in her chest, and the pain hurts in the best way possible. Somehow, it’s like nothing ever changed between, though Rachel’s not sure whether or not that’s such a good thing. "You know me so well," she murmurs, but when Santana only looks at her wonderingly, Rachel fears she said the wrong thing. 

Second-guessing herself has become the norm as of late, so she swiftly changes the subject. 

"Kurt and Henry look exceptionally handsome tonight," she says, glancing over to where the newlyweds are making their rounds. They look so complete together as they laugh and converse with the people surrounding them, and Rachel honestly can't picture them with anyone else but each other. "I think it'll work out," she sighs in content. "They'll be happy together."

Santana looks at her like she wants to call bullshit. "You sound so sure."

Rachel only sighs and says, "If it's anything I have a clear abundance of, that's hope. I may even have too much of it sometimes, but it's what keeps me going, even when the odds are against me."

Dark eyes cut over to the party guests dancing around them. Her voice is rough when she says, "I try not to hope sometimes—"

Rachel nods solemnly. "I know."

"—because whenever I have high expectations, I always seem to be let down."

"Santana—"

"Rach," Santana starts, squeezing gently at Rachel's side to gain her full attention. "You're gonna say that you know what I mean, and maybe you do, but—I'm better off with what's familiar, you know? I don't do well with change, or...or taking chances."

An uneasy expression flashes across her face in this moment, but then it's gone in less than point five seconds, and she's thoughtful once again. 

"A while ago, Kurt said that I was wasting my time trying to keep people like them apart—that I should instead take a chance on love." Santana gnaws on her bottom lip, eyes lowered to the floor beneath their feet. "Even Henry said that I'm always waiting—not because I'm being cautious, but because I'm a coward."

"They're wrong," Rachel says, almost automatically. 

"No, no, they're right. About everything." Santana sighs, cheeks puffed out adorably on a long exhale. "It's scary how right they are, and look at them now," she nods in their direction with a weary smile, "all hitched up and shit. Obviously they know something I don't."

Rachel nods slowly, but she’s not entirely sure what Santana’s trying to tell her. It’s like she’s admitting to something without even saying the words. "Santana, what exactly are you—"

"Hey, um—Rachel?"

She never does get a chance to finish her question, because following that deep voice is a tall shadow. 

Finn appears to their left, easily towering over the both of them, and he smiles at Rachel, completely ignoring Santana's blatant eye roll when he asks, "May I cut in?" 

Rachel stalls, eyes darting sideways as she waits to see what Santana will do, but the other girl only eyes Finn critically for a moment with a look that is clearly irritation before handing Rachel over to him with the most insincere smile Rachel's ever seen.

"Don’t crush her toes, Finny," Santana warns him, and Finn only sighs in exasperation before purposely turning his back on her. 

Santana noticeably hovers with a peculiar expression, but then she walks away after a shared look between them, quickly disappearing amongst the people on the dance floor. Over Finn's shoulder, Rachel catches sight of Santana's retreating form, and she frowns when her roommate meets up with Quinn out on the balcony.

Finn smiles down at her and clumsily tries to sway on beat as he takes Rachel’s small hand in his big, rough one. It’s not like dancing with Santana at all, but her roommate and Finn are nothing alike, so how Rachel feels for each of them will never align. While Santana’s her obvious choice, Rachel had once considered Finn the love of her life. 

But that was then and this is now.

Finn is quiet for most of the dance, almost thoughtful, as he gazes down at Rachel, staring at her so hard it's actually a bit disconcerting. She eventually glances up at him, set on asking why he's studying her so carefully, but Finn beats her to the punch with a question of his own. "So..." he drawls, arching an eyebrow at her, "Who’s the lucky one this time?"

Rachel's heart skips a beat, but there's no way he could possibly know. "What?" she mumbles, smiling hesitantly through her anxiety.

"The person you fell in love with—Quinn or Santana?—because you keep glancing over at the balcony with that same longing look you used to give me," Finn says easily, like it's the most natural thing in the world to put together.

Rachel's more shocked than embarrassed by the question. Finn was never the most adept at acknowledging other's feelings over his own, but it's been almost six months since they've last seen each other, and maybe it's the way he leads her without stepping on her feet, but something about Finn seems wiser. Different. Grown up.

"Finn, I don't—I, um..." Rachel stammers, and then cuts herself off when Finn only tilts his head and gives her this look that says she's not fooling anyone, especially not him. "Okay, fine," she sighs in defeat. "It’s…well, it’s  _definitely_  not Quinn, so I guess that only leaves—well, yeah."

He nods, as if he expected as much, and Rachel begins to wonder if maybe Kurt's been doing more blabbing than she originally presumed. Again, Finn never questions things; he's more the type to remain happily oblivious in his own little world, so Rachel becomes skeptical again, but then Finn surprises her for the second time tonight when he kindly says, "Rachel, listen to me. If Santana's too blind to see just how special and wonderful you are, then she doesn't deserve you."

It warms her heart to hear that, but it also causes a knot to form in the pit of her stomach. She looks at him shyly and whispers, "Thank you, Finn."

"I mean it, Rachel," he presses, obviously not deterred by her casual deflecting method of apology. Finn smiles ruefully. "I still feel horrible for how we ended things, and I don't know if I broke your heart, but I promise you, Rach—I'll do anything to keep her from hurting you the way so many people have in the past."

Frowning slightly, Rachel rests her head on his chest and lets Finn lead. He's gotten a lot better at it since high school. 

\--

Her debate with Mercedes over Barbra vs. Aretha is cut short when Santana stands and clangs her glass with a fork, instructing everyone to take a seat. She goes a little overboard with it, on the verge of shattering the glass, when Kurt takes the fork away from her and replaces it with a microphone. 

"Hello, how's everyone doing tonight? Good, good," she adds, without even waiting for a response from the guests. "As you probably already know, I'm Santana, Henry’s only grooms _lady_ , and while it's usually the best man who makes this speech, it seems no one can find him at this present time."

She looks around for Lawrence with a quick shrug of her shoulders, but it’s kind of obvious to everyone that she doesn't really care where he is.

"Pretty sure he's in a broom closet with the bellhop or something, but oh well—everybody knows I'm the best at speeches anyway, so let's do this shit."

Mercedes mumbles an  _Oh Lord Jesus_  under her breath, and Rachel raises her eyebrows, preparing for whatever it is Santana's about to say. She's unpredictable at best and incredibly offensive at worse, so it should be interesting how all of this turns out. 

Preparing herself, Santana noisily clears her throat with a smirk. "Henry, you're my homeboy, but you already know that, so I'll tell you something you don't know, you smart motherfucker."

Henry fights a smile, amused, but his cranky husband presses a hand to his forehead and hisses, " _Santana."_

She blinks at him, clearly annoyed at being interrupted, but then Kurt gestures in the direction of the flower girl and ring bearer, and eventually she takes the hint. "Whoops, sorry," Santana mutters, raising a glass to the children, which—probably not the most appropriate action. "Kids, cover your ears. Auntie Snix is about to drop a few F bombs, and probably the C word too. If you happen to hear, just ask your mama what it means later and she'll more than likely lie to you about it." 

Santana's a crowd-pleaser, no matter what it is she says, so even though she's being somewhat inappropriate, the guests only laugh good-naturedly, probably because they're all drunk by now, and Kurt and Henry only shake their heads in amusement. 

Placing a hand on Henry's shoulder, Santana breathes out a sigh, an unexpected seriousness in her dark eyes, and Rachel looks on, her focus on Santana's fingers as they tighten around the microphone in her hand.

"Now, Red, let me drop some knowledge on you. Love...love is super scary, but if there's two people I know who aren't afraid of loving each other, it's you guys,” she says, looking at the both of them with glassy eyes. "You've—well, I'm just gonna say it. You guys show me what it's like every single day to make sacrifices and compromises for the person you love.

"You've been through hell and back with each other, and it's crazy to think it's only been less than a year since you've met, but maybe love doesn't have an alarm clock or whatever. That crap doesn't matter."

She shrugs a dismissive shoulder, and Kurt breaks out into a teary smile, clearly overjoyed at hearing Santana say this after originally being so persistently against their wedding.

Smiling indulgently, Santana sniffles and adds, "All that matters is if you're willing to go that extra mile—even if you're scared, even if you don't know what tomorrow brings, even if everyone and everything is up against you."

Santana bites her lip and then toys with the birthstone pendant hanging from her necklace. She messes with that thing whenever she’s feeling vulnerable and needs a distraction, Rachel knows, and so she props her elbow on the table and then smiles a little to herself behind her hand. 

"There’s no doubt in my mind that you two belong together. I mean, let’s be real, you guys met at a Halloween party dressed as Elton John and Boy George," Santana reveals, earning a ruckus of laughter at that piece of information. If Kurt and Henry aren’t already blushing, they surely are when Santana finishes with, "Anyways, you guys look so handsome and happy together, and I couldn't be any more proud to call myself your friend." She raises her glass and then chants, "To Kurt and Henry. May they have years of love, happiness, and, of course, raunchy gay sex."

"To Kurt and Henry," Rachel echoes behind an amused grin, along with everybody sitting around her.

Santana passes the microphone over to Finn as he stands with a flute of champagne, and it takes him a moment to juggle the items in his hands. There's a noisy feedback that have some of the guests cringing, and Rachel smiles down at her plate and muffles her laughter when Santana catches her eye and very deliberately mouths, ‘ _Still Finncompetent_.' 

Finn blushes and then straightens his tie before putting the microphone up to his lips. "Hi, everyone—um, I’m Finn, Kurt’s stepbrother," he says, a little louder than originally anticipated. He clears his throat and then tries again. "Thank you all for coming out and I hope everyone's having a great time. I know I am, so—um, yeah. Anyway, when Kurt told me he was tying the knot, I was—well, obviously I was kinda shocked, you know. It was just a little over a year ago when he was telling me that I was making the biggest mistake of my life doing the same exact thing, but hey, well, that's not really the point, is it?"

Santana coughs into her fist, muttering, "Nope, not really."

"Anyways," Finn drawls, side-eyeing Santana before directing his focus back on the grooms. "Whatever you do, Kurt, you always do it well. I just met Henry, like two days ago, but he's like, super cool and he loves sports, so that's always a plus in my book. When I was with Rachel, I had to practically steal the remote away from her so that we could watch football together, so good luck with that, dude, because you're sure gonna need it."

Rachel knits her eyebrows together with a frown. She wouldn’t particularly mind Finn using her in his speech if they were still dating, but—well, that ship has long since sailed, so it thoroughly confuses her why he even brings any of this up.

By the look on others’ faces, they are likely wondering much of the same.

"As you can all probably guess by now, I'm not very good at this public speaking stuff, so all I wanna say is that any relationship is hard work. I'm not married or anything, but I know  _that_  much, so if you work hard, you can do anything,” Finn says, nodding his head along to his own inspirational words. "Not everyone is willing to work for the person they want. They'll even let that person pine over them while they clearly still have feelings for the girl they dated in high school, but whatever, because that's not the point of this toast either."

Rachel cringes, silently wondering what _is_ the point, because this has gotten extraordinarily personal, fast. Her eyes slide over to the other gobsmacked people sitting at the bridal table, and Santana has noticeably bristled in her seat, jaw clenched angrily. "You know, you are absolutely fucking correct, Bigfoot. Other people's business shouldn’t be the point to your shitty toast," she agrees, a little too calmly to be considered normal, "So why don't you just get back to the fucking point, yeah?"

"Santana," Finn exasperates, covering the microphone with his palm, "There are children present."

" _Shit_ , my bad."

"Classic Santana,” Finn chuckles bitterly.

Santana straightens in her chair. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You ruin things you're not even involved in. This is  _my_  toast."

"And you know what? It sucks balls."

"I'd rather suck than swallow, but I know on a firsthand basis that you preferred doing  _both_  for most of high school."

There's an exact three second pause before Rachel realizes that Finn's words have reverberated throughout the entire reception hall. Whether or not removing his palm from the microphone was done intentionally—or whether Finn even realizes his snide remark serves as more of a two-sided diss than an individual insult—Rachel doesn’t know, but Santana obviously doesn't care about Finn’s intentions as she springs out of her seat with a flute of champagne still grasped in her hand.

It happens  _fast_ —so fast Rachel barely sees what happens. 

(Days later, while watching the wedding tape over, they'll all gather around the television in the loft and gape in amazement—some in horror, others in awe—as Santana splashes Finn in the eyes with her full glass of champagne and then punches him across the face with her left fist.)

Henry holds Santana back as she spews off a series of curses in Spanish, and Finn cradles his face and then clenches his eyes shut in obvious pain. The microphone has dropped to the floor, and a screeching line of feedback attacks everyone's senses and works as a soundtrack to the scene of utter chaos going on at the bridal table. 

Kurt and Carole tend to Finn as Henry manhandles Santana out of the reception hall and into the lobby, but Rachel doesn't snap out of it until she sees Brittany making her way towards the lobby as well. She jumps out of her seat and intercepts the blonde with a rushed, "It's okay, Brittany, I've got this," before pushing through the tall, mahogany doors. 

It only takes her a second to spot Santana and Henry over by a couch in the corner. Henry's standing over Santana, hands on his hips as he shakes his head in frustration and spits, "You know how important today is to me and you're going to pull some shit like this? Seriously, Santana?" Henry's freckled nose crinkles in obvious disapproval. "I don't even know what kinda bullshit you're trying to work out right now, but whatever it is, you better figure it out before you step back into my wedding."

As fiery as his red hair, Henry breezes past Rachel without even a second glance and then steps back into the ballroom. Music seeps out into the hotel lobby, and Rachel looks over her shoulder, deciding whether or not she should just give Santana some space before approaching her. She usually wouldn't think twice, but after everything that just occurred, Rachel doesn't know what to do.

But then Santana spots her, and she's angrily cradling her fist against her stomach. Her chest keeps rising and sinking with the rush of her adrenaline, and Rachel knows immediately that she can't leave Santana out here alone. Not after sending Brittany away, basically telling her that she'd handle it, and especially not after what Finn disclosed to the entire ballroom of wedding guests.

Finn has always had a mean side to him that’s only ever revealed when his deflated ego is popped, but Rachel had no idea he could be capable of what just happened in there. Santana’s retaliation, however, was not surprising in the slightest. She has a hot temper, everyone knows that, but now Finn knows  _on a firsthand basis_.

Rachel sighs as she wordlessly grabs Santana's working hand, drags her towards the lobby bar, and then asks the bartender for some ice wrapped in a napkin. Santana's silent the entire time and only peeks up at Rachel when the bartender returns.

Rachel carefully places the ice against Santana's knuckles. "It's probably going to bruise again," she tells her, when Santana winces at the touch.

Rachel’s immediately brought back to over a month ago when they were in this same exact position. Back then, however, Santana was drunk and had only punched a random woman. Now it's Finn that she purposely hurt, and Rachel wonders what her grand excuse will be this time for turning violent now that she's not intoxicated. Santana’s anger is warranted, of course, but Rachel’s a pacifist, so there is nothing words can’t easily settle over a brazen act of violence, in her opinion. 

Santana twitches her nose and then asks, "Why aren’t you with Finn?"

"You’re hurt," Rachel says, like it’s obvious, and it pretty much is.

"He’s hurt worse," Santana mutters under her breath.

Rachel stares at her silently, willing away the flood of tears itching to be released. She huffs, frustrated with herself and the girl sitting miserably in front of her. "Santana, I don't—do you not want me here or something?"

There’s a loaded pause that should give Rachel her answer, but then Santana twists her lips to the side and quietly admits, "I do want you here, Rach, but I just—that’s just the fucking problem. I’m selfish, okay? I’m selfish sometimes. I want too many things, and I’m fucking indecisive, but I just don't—I _can't_  make the wrong choices anymore, because I always end up hurting the people I care about." Her eyes remain lowered to the counter as she sniffles audibly. "My fucking baggage has always been an insecurity of mine, but when people like that doofus make fun of that, I just—I just get so…"

Santana struggles to suppress the wet gurgle in her voice as tears come to her eyes, and it becomes quite apparent to Rachel that Santana's upset over something way more crucial than Finn’s unfiltered stupidity. 

"Santana," Rachel whispers, blinking rapidly to keep the tears out of her eyes.

Clenching her jaw, Santana presses the ice harder against her knuckles with a wince. "I’m so fucking tired of not knowing what I want, and I need that to change," she mumbles, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. "I was talking to Britt earlier, and she was telling me about how she wants things to change too, so she got me this…" Santana hesitantly reaches into the top opening of her dress and pulls out a plastic card. "And I know this might sound crazy, but just hear me out first, okay?"

Biting down on her lower lip, Rachel narrows her eyes and asks, "What…what is that?"

"Well," Santana murmurs, fiddling with the card in her right hand, "It’s…um…"

Rachel looks at the card for a long moment and then blanches. "That’s a keycard," she points out, quite needlessly. "For a room here."

"Uh-huh," Santana drawls with a steady nod. "Rach, just listen for a sec, okay? Sometimes I don’t try for things because I think it’s too late, but Britt says it’s never too late, so I think I need to take this chance and just see where it—"

"Hey, Berry!" They both turn to the right, their heads snapping sideways to find Quinn holding open the door to the ballroom. She looks between them curiously before telling Rachel, "Kurt's freaking out. Finn's nose won't stop bleeding, so as second-in-command, it's your job to calm him down."

She glances at Santana, but she's frantically stuffing the keycard back into her bra, so Rachel sighs and asks, "Where's Henry?"

"Pissing."

"Burt?"

"He's cleaning up Finn," Quinn explains huffily, and Rachel looks between them, unsure of what to do, but then Quinn steps forward, her features softening in small fragments. "I’ll take care of Santana, okay? She won't get into anymore mischief while I'm around."

"Hello, sitting right here."

They both turn to look at Santana, and Quinn actually laughs at her. "You—don't talk for the rest of today," she instructs, poking at Santana’s left hand just to get a rise out of her. 

Santana scowls. "Seriously? _I’m_ the one in trouble when we all know Finn’s the jackass here."

"Finn is a jackass,” Quinn easily agrees, "But you didn’t have to punch the poor kid across the face, Pacquiao. Use your words next time. We all know you can defend yourself in that way just fine."

Gaping, Santana looks to Rachel for help, but Quinn’s right. Kurt’s currently freaking out because of Santana’s actions, which could have been easily avoided had Santana used a little bit of self-control, or perhaps some of what she'd learned in her past anger management classes. 

With a lingering kiss to Santana's forehead, Rachel cradles Santana's cheek in her hand and whispers, “Be good, okay?"

Santana's face falls as she looks between Rachel and Quinn. "I'm not a baby, you know."

"Yeah?" Quinn quirks an eyebrow. "Could've fooled me."

Santana rolls her eyes and then slaps Quinn’s hand away when she tries to poke at her again. 

Under the impression that Santana’s in good enough hands, Rachel takes her leave, but she swears she can feel Santana eyes on her the entire way back into the ballroom.

\--

Rachel waits, a good twenty minutes after the reception is over, but Santana doesn't come back to the wedding. Brittany’s not around either, and Rachel does the math. 

Angela approaches her, for the first time tonight, and drops her head back as she takes down a shot. "Your friend almost ruined my four months of hard work," she mumbles, slamming her shot glass down on the clothed table in which they're sitting. "What a freakin' mess."

Rachel stiffens immediately. Santana might make her heart feel like it’s been put through a shredder, but she loves the girl, so she can’t help but stand up for her. "Don’t talk about her like that."

Angela makes a face. "I was referring to this entire day, not Santana," she responds tentatively, arching an eyebrow at Rachel. "Hey, are you okay?"

Rachel hesitates for just a second, and then says, "She chose Brittany. She chose her over me."

"Just because they were talking earlier doesn’t mean she—"

"I’m not jumping to conclusions this time, Angela. Santana told me. They’re probably twelve stories above us right at this very moment."

Angela glances up. "Ew."

Rachel sighs in agreement. "I don’t know what I expected, especially after everything I put her through. Of course she’d pick Brittany over me. They have history, and she trusts Brittany."

"She trusts you too," Angela insists. 

"Not like she used to. I broke her trust. We’ll never get back to what we once were."

Even though Angela usually always has something to add, there’s really not much anyone can say in response to something as obvious as that. Angela had been there for the falling out. She'd seen how angered and upset Santana was over everything, and so neither of them are going to pretend everything’s right with their friendship.

"I’m sorry, honey," Angela says, and thank goodness for her understanding. She’d been annoyed at being lied to about Lloyd as well, but her heart is seemingly bigger than her irritation. Thankfully, Angela has allowed Rachel to crash on her couch for the last few weeks despite all the lies and secrets involving her fake boyfriend. 

Rachel smiles sadly. "Yes, well, can’t say I didn’t try, right?"

"If it helps, that Brittany girl has nothing on you," Angela tells her, and Rachel would laugh at the irony of that statement if she wasn't feeling so crummy. "I mean, Quinn is hot stuff, but—...you know, you should really consider dying your hair blonde. Santana seems to have a type."

"You don't say?" Rachel sort of smiles, but it certainly doesn’t reach her eyes. She can tell by the way Angela looks at her with those sympathetic blues, though they look a little too similar to Brittany's eyes right now, so Rachel turns away with a sigh. 

"Wanna ride back with Daniel and I?" Angela asks, but Rachel only waves her off before reaching beneath her chair to grab her purse. 

"I’m going to finish saying my goodbyes and then catch a cab," she says, even though most of her friends have already departed. "See you later?"

"'Course, kiddo." Angela gives her an encouraging smile as she leans in to peck her on the cheek. "Get home safe."

\--

The bartender asks her a total of five times if she wants something to drink before he just gives up all together and even stops looking in her direction as he wipes down the bar and continues to serve other customers. 

It’s better this way. She was starting to consider buying a drink after the third time he came around, but drinking herself into a unresponsive stupor, only to go back to the loft where all her friends are crashing, or to Angela’s apartment where her and Daniel are probably screwing around on any surface they can find, is not exactly high on the list of things Rachel wants to do tonight. 

A few guys have approached her with the clear intent of bringing her upstairs with them, but when they notice she’s been sipping on a glass of water rather than something dark and toxic, they eventually leave her be to go take advantage of some other poor, unsuspecting soul. 

It’s gotten to the point where she’d rather just get on a train and head back to Lima for the rest of the summer. She’d probably do it too, if it weren’t for her off-Broadway show. Sure, she’s not technically even in the musical, but she made a commitment and it’d be completely unprofessional to back out so close to opening night just because she’s heartbroken over a girl who's back with her high school sweetheart. 

Again, Rachel briefly considers drowning her tears and her aching heart in a glass of hard liquor when her phone lights up and then vibrates against the counter. She barely glances at the screen, thinking it’s Mercedes, who told her that she'd call once they were all safely back at the loft.

"Yeah?" she answers, and then rubs a hand across her face in exhaustion. It’s been a long day.

There's some rustling over the line, and Rachel lifts a brow when a familiar voice says, "Hey, that's no way to greet your best friend."

Her expression changes rapidly, and suddenly she’s not so tired anymore. "Santana?" she checks, just to be certain, because she’s had dreams like this before, only to wake up in the middle of the night, disorientated, unable to distinguish the difference between the sweat trickling down her face and the tears itching at the corners of her eyes.

"No, it’s your great uncle," the voice teases with a deep chuckle, sounding way too amused, "Duh it’s me."

Rachel tries to swallow the knot in her throat but it just comes right back up. "I—I thought you were with Brittany."

"Why would I be with Britt?"

"You—she and Sam broke up." Rachel closes her eyes and chokes back the emotion forcing its way up her stomach. She feels she may vomit, but she thankfully holds it down with a quick intake of air. "Santana, I don't get it. This is your chance to be with—"

"Rachel—"

"Brittany got you guys that hotel room, so why aren't you upstairs—"

"Wait, wait, Rachel," she says, sounding a lot more serious now, and somehow that scares Rachel more than when Santana was full of mirth and nonchalance. There's an odd silence as Santana breathes shakily over the phone, but with a ragged cough, she eventually admits, "Britt got that keycard for  _us_. As in, you and me."

Rachel jams her mouth shut at that. "How—why would she do that?"

"Oh, you know how gossip travels. Kurt told Mercedes, and Mercedes told Tina, and Tina told Britt everything that happened between us, and you know Brittany. She's a lover, not a fighter."

Forcing her eyes shut, Rachel struggles to catch up to the conversation and concentrate on what Santana’s telling her. It completely boggles her mind to learn that probably everyone knew how hard she's been crushing on Santana, but that’s kind of the least of her problems right now. "Brittany purchased a suite," Rachel prompts skeptically, pinching the bridge of her nose in confusion. "For us?"

"Yeah. On her dad’s credit card," Santana drawls laughingly. "He’s gonna be so pissed."

Rachel holds her breath, eyes downcast as she listens to Santana’s words. "And you accepted it? The keycard, I mean."

"Look, Rach," Santana begins, breathing out a shaky sigh, thus dropping her act of false levity, "I just—I think you've got me all wrong. Well, you didn't before, but now you do. I don't want what you think I want anymore."

"And what do you think I think you want?" Rachel asks, and then rolls her eyes at the atrocious wording of that sentence.

But Santana seems to understand. She always does. "You think I want one night stands, and—...and quickies in stank ass bathrooms of shady bars. And you're right to think that, because I never told you what I  _really_  want. But then again, I never told myself either."

"Well, tell me now," Rachel proposes, her eyes lowered to the counter. "What do you want?"

"I want..." The line goes silence after that, and Rachel almost has a heart attack as she pulls the cell phone away from her ear to make sure the call didn't disconnect. 

The timer is still going, so Rachel puts the phone back and whispers, "Santana?"

There's a long, quivering sigh through the speaker, and then Santana hesitantly admits, "I don’t want to sleep in a cold, empty bed after a shitty day of work. I want somebody who'll hold me. I don't want to filter my language or pretend that I don't love the word fuck like I had to do with Jenn. I fucking love the word fuck!" she exclaims, and Rachel smothers her laughter with a hand over her mouth. "I want somebody who I can talk to for hours about nothing. I want somebody I can sit in complete silence with, but once we talk, it’s like we never even stopped."

Rachel glances around frantically and tries to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks. "Santana, where are—"

"I want somebody who will be my biggest fan, even when I suck so hard my parents can't stand me—which is pretty damn often, actually," she adds as an after thought with a breathy laugh. "Rach, I want somebody who has always been there. I want somebody who cares about me, and I want somebody that I can care about back."

Rachel bites down on the inside of her cheek, hard. Maybe even hard enough to draw blood. Hard enough to hurt in the best way possible. "What are you saying, Santana?"

She needs to hear the words, because it feels as if she's heard all of this before. Santana talks in circles, and her words have double-meanings that Rachel has misinterpreted for months, so she needs Santana here, and she needs to hear the actual words she's been waiting to hear for a long time now. 

There’s a tap on her shoulder, and Rachel holds her breath as she swivels around on her stool. Santana stands behind her, barefoot, with a pair of heels dangling in her right hand. With her left, she hangs up her cell phone and sways a little to the side, nervously fiddling with the buckle on her heels.

There are tears in her eyes, and Rachel wants to reach out and dry them, but Santana blinks them away before she gets the chance. "Without Britt, I used to just exist. But now I'm living. I’m going to school, and I have my own dreams, outside of what Brittany wants," she says, reaching down between them for Rachel's hand. "Outside of worrying about her future, or what she’s going to do with her life—and don’t get me wrong, I’ll always have a place in my heart for Britt, but this past year, I’ve allowed myself to be my own person."

Santana holds their conjoined hands up between them for a moment with a weird smile, and Rachel traces the curve of Santana's lips until a slow tear slides down her cheek and into the bow of her mouth.

Eyes shining, Santana takes a deep breath and says, "I know I have dependency issues, okay? I have a bad habit of attaching myself to people, and I’m sorry if that gave you the wrong impression at first."

Santana holds onto Rachel's hand tighter when Rachel tries to slip out of her tight grasp. She moves even closer, practically trapping Rachel against the bar counter, her eyes dark and maybe even a little bit scared. Rachel's scared too. She's afraid this will be it—either the moment Santana breaks her heart for good and destroys all hope of them ever being together, or the moment where Santana tells her that she feels the same way.

Honestly, either of those options will change everything. She'll live if it turns out to be the former, but what's living when you're without the person you love?

Santana breathes shakily, clearly just as scared as Rachel feels. "I've been horrible at expressing to you where I stand in all of this, and I’ve been kidding  _myself_  for so long, but I feel like things are different now. I’ve had time to think over the past few weeks, and honestly, I should've known earlier. I should have seen the signs in myself, but I refused to feel anything beyond friendship, because let's be real, the last time I did that, everything turned to shit."

She laughs bitterly at herself, eyes downcast as she carefully fiddles with Rachel's fingers. 

"But I don't want to be cautious anymore. I don't want to be a coward. You're my home, Rach, so I'm done running," she says, stressing her point by leaning down to rest their foreheads together. "I don't love Brittany or Quinn, or any of those other girls. I love  _you_ , Rachel. I'm in love with  _you_ , okay?"

Rachel's upper lip quivers, and she frowns disbelievingly. "You—you're in love...with me?" 

Santana nods timidly. "I am, I really am."

Her throat closes up before she can even open her mouth to reciprocate the profession. Tears start dripping from her jaw and onto her dress, and that's how she realizes she's crying. Shaking her head, she laughs wetly, and then Santana joins in her laughter with a snort as she carefully slides her forehead down the slope of Rachel's nose. 

Those dark eyes gaze up at her, so heavy and needy, but Rachel doesn't move. She can only stare, breathing hotly against Santana's lips, mentally preparing herself for a kiss that comes before she's ready, but that doesn't stop her from immediately sinking into a breathy sigh and warm lips as a hand slides up her neck and then through her hair. Santana kisses her like she's been starving for a taste, and it literally knocks all the air out of her. 

Rachel turns away with a blissful smile and then shyly tucks her face into Santana's neck when she realizes a few people at the bar counter, including the bartender, have been nosily staring at them. 

"You still have that keycard?" Rachel whispers into Santana's ear, loving the way the other girl shivers when her breath touches tan skin. 

She counts the seconds in which Santana stares at her in baffled silence, but then that trademark devilish smirk stretches across her lips, and she slyly pulls the card out of her bra, saying, "As a matter of fact, I do. Must be your lucky night."

"Or…" Rachel drawls, hooking her finger in the ribbon tied around Santana’s dress to pull her near. She looks up with a wry smile. "Maybe it's yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i only did a little bit of research on the order of a reception, so hopefully i didn't botch it up too bad :/


End file.
